


My Kingdom for a Kippah

by Zombubble



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cleaning, Fluff, Jewish Character, Jewish Victor Nikiforov, Jewish Viktor Nikiforov, M/M, at least it's not steamed buns, bark mitzvah, domestic cuteness, fall cleaning, kippot, makkachin being makkachin, there are an abundance, viktor's the type of dude, who stuffs all his kippot in his tallit bag before promptly forgetting about them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12221241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombubble/pseuds/Zombubble
Summary: Autumn cleaning drabble wherein Viktor has more kippot than he knows what to do with, Yuuri learns something new, and Makkachin decides he wants his stuff back. (Jewish!Viktor, not set at any specific time.)





	My Kingdom for a Kippah

Yuuri’s helping Viktor reorganize his room one late autumn evening, when he comes across a small, embroidered bag. He picks it up gingerly, running a hand along raised Hebrew letters. It’s not heavy, per se, but there’s a weight of importance about it that makes Yuuri think twice about tossing it carelessly on the bed.

“Viktor?” he asks, “What do you want me to do with this bag?”

Viktor continues shuffling things around in the closet. “What’s in it?”

Yuuri looks back at the bag on his lap, finding the zipper at the top and pulling it open slowly.  He’s unprepared for the sheer number of kippot that spill out onto the floor, all different materials and color schemes. “Um, hats. Kippahs. The ones yo-“ he stops suddenly, intrigued. “Does this one have Makkachin on it?”

Viktor finally turns around. He’s sweating, hair plastered to his forehead and t-shirt clinging to his torso. Seeing the kippah in Yuuri’s hand, his face lights up. “That one was made for me by a friend after I brought Makkachin home. Isn’t it cute?” He sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Yuuri. He reaches out and gently takes the bag from Yuuri’s hand, pulling out another handful of kippot. After a final check, he puts the bag carefully on the bed, Makkachin kippah now firmly perched on his silver hair.

Yuuri stares at the pile before him. The floor is littered with satin kippot, a few with names and dates on them, and stiffer suede in blues, browns, and black. Knits of a variety of colors and patterns catch his eye, some with stripes and six-pointed stars, including a well-loved rainbow one. He picks up one in a plastic bag, unusually proportioned compared to the rest. Pulling it out, he sees it covered with curly brown hair, in stark contrast to the silver hairs in the others. Realization dawns and he looks at Viktor in disbelief. “Does _Makkachin_ have a kippah too?!”

Viktor looks at him. “Yuuri. We’re Jewish.”

Yuuri’s laugh bubbles out of his throat and shakes his whole body. After it dies down, as he’s cleaning his glasses, he lets out a snort. “Does Makka have one with your face on it as well?”

His question is met with silence, and as his glasses slide into place he’s met with the sight of Viktor, eyes shining in excitement, a grin plastered across his face with his hands clasped in front of his body like he’s been handed a gift.

“Not yet!” Comes the enthusiastic answer to Yuuri’s question.

“Oh my _god_ , Viktor. How can your dog be Jewish, anyway?”

“He had his Bark Mitzvah!”

“His  _what now_?”

Viktor hurriedly pulls out his phone, scrolling through the images. “Remember I told you about my Bar Mitzvah? Reading from the Torah, celebration, and all that? I threw a Bark Mitzvah party for Makkachin when he hit thirteen. In dog years, of course, but he got treats and I got him his very own doggy tallit and kippah.”

He finds the pictures he’s looking for, showing Makkachin amongst balloons, decorations, and a few presents. The kippah Yuuri had found is perched on the dog’s head, peeking up over his fur.  Across Makka’s shoulders is draped a white cloth, with blue stripes and giant blue paw prints on the front. The next picture has a much-younger Viktor posing next to his dog, long silver hair gleaming in the light, cascading gently over his shoulder. A blue kippah with indecipherable wording is balanced on his head, his arms are wrapped around his dog and his face is lit up with a smile so big his eyes are closed. Viktor scrolls to a similar picture, this time of himself shaking Makka’s paw while making a frankly adorable face at the dog. In another, Makka’s kippah is hanging precariously off his head, white cloth nowhere to be found. With a bone in his mouth, the dog looks immensely satisfied. The last picture shows Makkachin curled up on carpet, kippah next to him on the floor, sleeping around the remnants of the bone he’d been carrying earlier.

Yuuri smiles at Viktor, enjoying this glimpse into the other man’s adolescence. “Which one were _you_ wearing?” he asks, gesturing at the floor.

Viktor shuffles around in the pile of kippot, eventually emerging with a silk one that had the same color scheme as Makkachin’s.  Yuuri squinted at the letters, before realizing they were mix of Hebrew and Cyrillic. Viktor notices his confusion and explains. “It’s his name, in Hebrew and Russian, and the date.” Yuuri takes it from him and looks it over.

Viktor starts setting the kippot on the floor in piles, setting select suede ones, and a nicer white satin one, to the side before he stacks up the rest.  He grabs a plastic bag and puts the larger pile in. Makkachin’s is returned to its original bag. Viktor sets them on the bed next to the blue velvet bag the kippot had fallen out of. He sets the smaller pile on his nightstand, removing the white satin kippah and placing it on his sheets.

Yuuri looks up to see Viktor unfurling a large white woolen cloth, with thick blue stripes on the sides. An embroidered panel in Hebrew runs along the top, and on each corner is a tassel longer than the fringe lining the short edges. His breath hitches in his throat. “What…what’s _that?”_

Viktor lays the cloth out on the bed gently. “It’s a tallit,” he says. “We wear it when we pray.”

“Is it important?” Yuuri asks, though with the care Viktor’s showing while folding it, smoothing it out gently before folding carefully again, he knows the answer before Viktor opens his mouth.

“Very,” Viktor confirms. “This one, especially. My grandparents gave it to me for my bar mitzvah, it had been my grandfather’s when he was young.” He makes the final fold, leaving a rectangle of fabric just smaller than the bag it came out of. Smoothing it out, he sets the white satin kippah on top of it, and puts them both into the blue velvet bag, zipping it carefully.

The last Yuuri sees of the bag is a flash of the embroidered Hebrew as Viktor places it carefully in one of his drawers. The plastic bag with the other kippot is set on a shelf in the closet, and the small pile moved to the dresser. Viktor sits on the bed, falling backwards a second later, arms splayed over his head, Makkachin kippah falling off to lay on the blankets. Yuuri glances around the room.  Most of Viktor’s possessions are organized, his pictures and matryoshka dolls freshly dusted. There are a few scattered remnants of their cleaning frenzy, a bag of trash sits in the corner, and a few errant paper towels are perched on the back of Viktor’s chair. Yuuri makes a mental note to take their mugs down to the kitchen when they’re done for the night. He sits on the bed next to Viktor, laying back to look at the ceiling.

“Did Makkachin enjoy his Bark Mitzvah?”

Yuuri feels the bed shift as Viktor chuckles, “He did, actually. Though I think I enjoyed it even more.”

“Is it often that you throw parties for your dog?”

“No, but it was a special occasion.”

Both of them sit up suddenly hearing Makka scratching at the side of the bed. Before they can figure out what’s happening, Makka is standing in the doorway, thin plastic bag in his mouth.  Yuuri hardly has time to register the flash of blue silk within before Makkachin takes off like a shot, bolting down the stairs with his own kippah as Viktor and Yuuri chase after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! Response to my first story was great and I'm brimming with ideas, so here's another!!
> 
> I can be found on tumblr at my YOI sideblog, [@we-call-everything-katsudon](http://we-call-everything-katsudon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
